Sunday, 22 November 2009

Came across some stunning images taken by an anonymous radiologist somewhere in the States. Known only as 'Surfactant', the Flickr user uploads images of various traumas captured on X-rays. This one teaches a valuable lesson about the letting go of grenades without delay.

There's a few others, ranging from point blank gunshot wounds to dildos that are 'beyond retrieval'. While we're on the subject, it's almost a constant surprise as to what things people put where. Just such an example is an expanding foam earplug in an unfortunate gentleman's urethra, where urinal backflow becomes an urgent medical concern.

Wednesday, 11 November 2009

Morbid curiosity led to me watching Gillian Mckeith beating the emotional shit out of some fat girls getting married in Channel Four's 'Three Fat Brides, One Thin Dress'.

I was prepared for her no-nonsense approach, but some of her remarks made me wonder who the fuck's side she was on. Storming into a wedding shop and pushing an assistant aside, she screamed at the terrified bride-to-be 'you'll need more than a bouquet, more like a beach ball to cover that MASSIVE BELLY!'

I wouldn't mind the cruel-to-be-kind thing, but the editing was almost as bad as when Gillian shoves a diseased heart in a vending machine and forces the poor bitch to pick it up. And let's not forget the slo-mo shots of the CHICKEN NUGGETS OF DEATH with Jurassic Park sound effects remixed with heart monitor flat lines.

The choice between being obese and prodding at shit all day to me is somewhat of a no-brainer. Bring on the fucking chips.

Thursday, 29 October 2009

If you want to get some exposure for your cause, it's easy. Just piss off the Daily Mail and watch the bandwagon form before your eyes. After all, all publicity is good publicity, as they say.

Keep Britain Tidy has in the past few weeks launched a campaign aimed at a younger audience with innuendo-filled posters advocating sensible waste disposal habits.

I see that subtlety isn't exactly their forte in this area, but something tells me that they achieved their purpose when the Mail got all narky about it like just in this here article.

Choice comments under the piece are typical Mail-ish fare, with platitudes such as 'filth' 'waste of taxpayers' money like everything else in this country that's gone to the dogs' and 'sack them! Sack them all! Sack every single one of them and burn them! Burn the traitors and moral decayers until they fry in hell until the end of eternity!'

And, you know, that kind of thing.

Sometimes you have to wonder if they're not in some way encouraging the behaviour they wish to extinguish with their social commentary. It's like the thick kid with the hot temper that everyone used to love winding up at school.

Thursday, 22 October 2009

Today marked the climax of a week's worth of protesting, anger and general resentment at the impending appearance of the BNP's Nick Griffin on BBC's Question Time.

Many protested against the BNP's inclusion in the programme. I say to these people, 'what the hell were you so worried about?'

Whilst many were concerned about the BNP coming across as a party with any credibility whatsoever, they can now safely sigh with relief. Griffin crumbled at the first sign of scrutiny, shaking, sweating and laughing innappropriately at the mention of his Holocaust denial.

Clutching at straws, he found the momentum to start an epic rant that removed any veneer of respectibility from his character. Charlie Brooker commented on Twitter at the time: "Did he really just complain about the cancellation of guided tours of the Lake District?" He did. He really did.

Fair play to the BBC, they did well. I was especially fond of their positioning of Griffin next to a mixed race woman who seemed to have had her neck surgically positioned pointing away from him for the duration of the programme.

He quickly deteriorated, calling the Ku Klux Klan 'non-violent' and demanding that homosexuality is not taught in primary schools, which is a shame, because I always enjoyed my double gay lesson on Thursdays when I was 8. He also described gay people as 'creepy', although if he's basing this on himself, for the record I find the idea of him kissing anyone particularly disconcerting.

Not a man that defines 'fuckable', is he?

Particularly fun was the camera panning away as Griffin was totally blanked by his black neighbour during the 'talky bit at the end of the news' bit.

"I don't know why I said those things". - Regarding his previous Holocaust denial. I don't think that would have gone down well at Nuremberg.

Wednesday, 21 October 2009

It's time for a mascot. A mascot for public transport in metropolitan areas. Fortunately he seems to have arrived in the guise of 'angry tube man', who the Transport for London people are sending through disciplinary procedures as we speak.

According to reports, he regularly terrorises passengers at Holborn station, chasing a BBC journalist down the platform when she informed him that the barriers weren't working. Referring to himself as 'an easy-going Jedi' on his Facebook profile, he has been filmed abusing an old man who got his arm trapped in a train door.

Some AngryTubeMan quotes:

"Stand back, there is a fucking train approaching""Sling him under a train""Go and walk under a fucking bus"

I will pay good money to see a video of this man's interview (or disciplinary footage). Send to the usual address.

Tuesday, 13 October 2009

About 16 hours prior to me writing this, the Guardian announced that for the first time in memory, a newspaper had been prevented from reporting on a political question being raised in Parliament. The article, which can be found here, announces:

"Today's published Commons order papers contain a question to be answered by a minister later this week. The Guardian is prevented from identifying the MP who has asked the question, what the question is, which minister might answer it, or where the question is to be found.

The Guardian is also forbidden from telling its readers why the paper is prevented – for the first time in memory – from reporting parliament. Legal obstacles, which cannot be identified, involve proceedings, which cannot be mentioned, on behalf of a client who must remain secret."

Unfortunately for the parties involved in the legal gagging, the Guardian were allowed to mention the name Carter-Ruck, the legal organisation involved. A quick browse of the Wikipedia page immediately unveils the company involved: Trafigura.

For those that don't know, Trafigura are the company involved in the dumping of toxic waste just off the Ivory Coast, resulting to injuries to at least 100,000 West African citizens.

The public took to Twitter in protest, supported by a huge number of celebrities.

Within the last hour or so, the gagging order has been lifted on the Guardian, but it is certainly debatable whether less damage would have been done if the company had simply allowed the free speech of the press in the first place.

However, the result still stands as an important day for democracy, and those involved should be very proud of themselves. They may have just changed history today.

Saturday, 3 October 2009

Poor Derren Brown. Three great events that made Friday night TV watchable for the first time in years (aided by Peep Show naturally), and the fourth is the one that everyone remembers.

The man who claims to have beaten the roulette wheel certainly has a wealth of evidence to suggest this is the case, further illustrated by the fact that he is banned from almost every casino in the UK for having a 100% success rate at cards.

At the climax of the month's worth of events, Derren attempted to gamble £5000 of somebody's money on a single number of roulette, hopefully netting £175,000 at odds of 35:1. With an elaborate setup that can't be faulted in terms of unmissable and enthralling TV, Derren ventured to the table in an unknown European casino and chose the number he believed the be the winner, by calculating the trajectory and speed of the ball in a matter of a split-second.

Unfortunately a year of (what I assume to be) intensive study and training, Derren's calculation was one number out, which in the cruel game of roulette is little consolation. What ensued after in the two minutes of airtime remaining in this slot, however, was nothing short of hysterically funny. It was clear that Derren's crew had not factored in that he may miss his calculation, and as the vision mixer scrambled to find a suitable shot that didn't make matters worse, he made an unfortunate selection.

As the two crew members stand outside the trailer where the man now short of £5000 is sitting, one meekly calls 'Ben, Ben, we'll get you your money back'. Next to him, we see a caught-out colleague awkwardly holding a giant cheque, with no hope in fuck of concealing it from the millions watching.

I guess surreptitiously sliding it under the trailer wasn't really an option.

Sunday, 27 September 2009

If there's one thing the News of the World can be proud of, it's the ability to switch sympathies within a matter of hours after an opportunity for a headline presents itself.

Even more audacious than Carole 'I always liked Jade Goody, despite what I said earlier' Malone's attacks of literary diahorrea (something I want to get my teeth into later), the NotW has decided the quickest way to jump on the Andre v Andre gravy train is to get Dwight Yorke in for a bit of 'insight' into the matter.

The only person who can safely be assumed to be the villain of the piece is somewhat incredibly painted as the heroic father figure, with any whiff of fact thrown out of the window. Fair play to them, they've managed to attempt to portray a hero in a man that abandoned his disabled son after a brief relationship with a glamour model; this is pretty professional stuff considering the level of journalism is barely above that of a racist monkey on a typewriter.

Apparently Jordan's son sustained a burn to his leg, which when Yorke found, made him 'want to smash up the ward'. Not start court proceedings for full custody or call social services? Well, I guess he needed a few years to think about it first. I should probably say at this point that I'm completely indifferent to the characters involved in this banal tale, it's only the NotW's level of denial to the facts that makes me come across as some sort of Katie Price raging fanboy. I suppose I set my expectations too high of the Sunday papers, hoping to find something that resembles journalism on a Sunday is like finding something that resembles anything other than race hate in the Daily Mail.

But really, it's the columnists that do my head in. A recent story dominating my local headlines (and now national), is the sad tale of a woman and her disabled daughter who committed suicide after the police ignored the bullying taking place at the hands of local youths. A sad thing that happened when the police overlooked this case, one might think. Although Carole 'do you have kids? Then shut the fuck up' Malone sees it another, more hysterically paranoiic way:

"Fiona was a British... being terrorised on a daily basis - yet still she wasn't considered a priority in PC Britain. Perhaps if she'd been an illegal immigrant, someone from a different country claiming to have been persecuted - better yet if she'd been a victim of racism - I suspect teams of officers would have been beating a path to her door."

Yeah, Carole. Hit the nail on the head. Those fucking immigrants. You'd think we were blaming them for stuff they hadn't even done or something.

Saturday, 26 September 2009

After news that Iran has taken North Korea's place as the wayward child of the United Nations and developed nuclear weapons, it's time to once again consider something we haven't needed to think about since the Cold War; what to do if a big fat nuke drops in our garden.

Ok, I'm being dramatic, obviously if that happened, no Scout's guide on Earth is going to change the toasted outcome of that one. However, there's nothing like Government information guides written and produced in the 70s and 80s to thoroughly scare the shit out of the British public in the name of information.

20 short films were produced in order to advise the public what to do if we were attacked with nuclear weapons. This one in particular is a highlight.

As if this wasn't enough to encourage one to be prepared for the incoming nuclear holocaust, the kids got their own version. Children's informational programmes about dangerous stuff in the 70s and 80s were known for inducing nightmares on a level that makes The Exorcist look like a walk in the park, with producers clearly deciding that pushing death in the faces of the young ones was the way forward. Even something as basic as telling them to stay away from deep water needed a Grim Reaper to hammer the message home.

Even after being hardened by this emotional abuse, there was nothing to prepare the little ones for Threads, a docu-film about a nuclear attack on Northern England. A thirteen-part series in small enough chunks to be shown in school classes, it's surprising more kids didn't join the armed forces for some emotional shelter. Here's some highlights from Threads:

After seeing this stuff, it always makes me crack a wry smile when people mention the desensitised youth with brains battered by horror and violence. Perhaps they just blocked out their own experiences with denial or a casual bit of alcoholism.

Thursday, 24 September 2009

We've known for a while that Glenn Beck's state of mental health has been in a controlled and rapid decline.

His eagerness to prove a point through visual aids hasn't been an approach that has served him well recently (remember the 'oligarhy [sic]' blunder?), and this recent video is no exception.

I was at first rather disturbed by the combination of a smart blazer and tie with jeans, but as soon as I heard his description of Obama's presidency and saw the saucepan, I realised that the ending to this story wasn't going to be good.

It seems the payoff of this video was even better than I dared imagine.

I know hindsight is 20/20, but I think he could have done with a trial run of this beforehand. Maybe I'm being rather obtuse, but I didn't really understand the point he was trying to make.

I assume from the results of this experiment that Obama won this one by default.

Wednesday, 23 September 2009

Saturday, 19 September 2009

So you may have seen the Derren Brown thing on telly on Friday, where he made loads of people stick to their chairs. Didn't work on many people, but luckily this girl filmed herself watching the video, causing more entertainment to me than the show itself.

Thursday, 17 September 2009

It has always struck me as rather odd that programmes which deal with issues such as addiction (well, I say 'deal' in the loosest terms) choose to be sponsored by gambling companies. Maybe they're just ensuring a long-term supply of guests, which seems like a plausible explanation.

Anyway, the task of portraying such a destructive activity like gambling is a tough one, and it's clear those marketing types are struggling. Here's Wink Bingo's most recent effort.

"Yeah, I have it! A bollocks CGI dog doing some Irish dancing!"

That said, I'll probably eat my words, when the country is swallowed into a global rec-... oh wait.

Sunday, 6 September 2009

Damien Hirst has scored a rather spectacular own goal, after sending threats to a young artist for profiteering from his work. Cartrain was forced to stop selling his work as a result, and responded by stealing a box of Hirst's pencils from his Pharmacy exhibit, offering only to return them if his art was also returned to him.

The 'Wanted' style poster designed by Cartrain included the final line: 'You have until the 31st July to meet my demands, or the pencils will be sharpened'. According to Hirst, the pencils are worth over £500,000, and Cartrain has been arrested in relation to the theft.

Unfortunately for Damien Hirst, the public reaction to this story has been a very clear siding with Cartrain, especially in light of evidence that Hirst is not himself a stranger to plagiarism.

The top image is Hirst's 'Valium', produced in 2000, whereas the lower image is the work of computer graphic artist Robert Dixon, in 1984.

Wednesday, 2 September 2009

Once again, they put their own profiteering needs before anyone else's, and manipulate the public into believing that they're doing them a favour.

A recent casing example? The Baby P case. I realise I put myself at risk with these words I am about to write, but if anything, that only proves how far this (admittedly sophisticated) process has gone. The pattern goes as this:

Appalling crime happens to an innocent victim, usually something none of us members of the public can contemplate without extreme emotion.

The British Press, in particular red-tops, spends weeks on end driving the message home of the abhorrence of the crime, and the suffering of the victim. At the same time, the articles build an underlying hatred in the reader for the perpetrator, with language such as 'monster', usually underlined and in capitals to ensure impact.

Over weeks and weeks, the public is spun into a frenzy of rage for the criminal(s) involved. The victim is almost forgotten in comparison to the bloodlust and murderous intents of the readers for the perpetrator. Usually this is expressed in forums, Facebook groups and any platforms that come to hand. In fact, the newspapers even have a comments section underneath their articles so we can be told what to think by our peers.

Then, the grooming process is complete. The Press strikes the moment the information is available and posts the names, faces and in some cases, locations of the perpetrators. The infatuated public leap at the scraps of information like rabid dogs to meat, and are suddenly a very real threat to the lives of the perpetrators.

Now, I ask you to put aside your own thoughts about the Baby P parents, murderous as they may be, for the moment. If we live in a country with a justice system, why on earth are the Press allowed to indirectly distract that course of justice? A murderer, rapist, kidnapper who comes to court, comes away with a sentence. Whatever our thoughts are on that sentence, too short, too soft, etc. it is not our place to interfere. If we take issue with the sentences imposed on criminals, the place to go is Parliament, not to criminals' homes to impart our own sense of justice.

The Press may not admit their approach, in fact, it may just be the collateral damage of their own profiteering, and not factor into their plans. However, to whip the public into a frenzy and cause them to crave personal details that they will impart when available is a dishonest technique to sell papers. It condones violence against criminals, which is not part of their sentence.

Some may say the Baby P parents deserved the death penalty, to be torn limb from limb. These are not few in number. I say to these people: campaign for the death penalty to be returned. They respond that certain people deserve it more than others. Where then, do we draw the line? We can't. Flawed as the justice system may be, it is a damn sight better than tearing those to pieces who we think deserve it. As a society, we are above that.

As a result, our government must spend millions on changing the identities of these said criminals, to avoid vigilante violence upon their release from prison. So not only do the Press exploit public information to sell papers, they cost the UK taxpayer doing so. Not that it's any guarantee of their safety.

It concerns me greatly that we're living in a society where it is becoming more and more socially acceptable to express murderous intent without a hint of irony. Criminals or not, it is impossible for anyone to decide that this person definitely deserves a violent death while another doesn't. Some even extend their violent urges to the care workers involved, who are accused of, at most, negligence in their job. When that warrants a violent death, I'll be leaving the country, and this simply underlines how far the papers have allowed this madness to go.

The Press gives the public a false sense of power, indirectly allowing them to think they can change the course of history with their bare hands. It is like the Emperor's new clothes, the papers encourage this criminal thinking as if it is something to be admired.

They even campaign under titles like 'Justice for Baby P' and similar titles. Put simply, there IS no real justice for a violent and painful death. The best we have is locking the perpetrators away for life, or a number of years decided by a jury in a legal court. 'An eye for an eye' belongs in the Old Testament, and needs to stay there. Anything within that vein makes our society no better than the few and far between criminals lurking within.

Thursday, 27 August 2009

Glenn Beck's darkest days are approaching, and he seems to know that too, judging by the recent speech he made on Fox News.

After calling President Barrack Obama a racist without a hint of irony on his television show, Beck is feeling the heat due to a public backlash.

A number of the show's sponsors have pulled out, requesting that their ads are not featured during, or either side of Beck's show. Some have pulled out altogether from the Fox News Network, most notably courier firm UPS. All other sponsors are facing increasing amounts of pressure from their clients, some threatening to boycott the companies, should they continue to advertise on Fox.

Glenn Beck's response to these events is very much inkeeping with Beck's general sense of decorum, in that he is responding by sobbing on air and comparing his life to the life of 'America', 'almost' to the point of lunacy.

"I was a dirtbag, but not anymore", bawls Beck. One wonders if this is some sort of halfway apology, but Beck quickly begins rambling on about his alcoholism, which assumedly he was saving for a special occasion (very much like a fine wine, some may say).

Apparently this all fits in with America. Beck's speech quickly makes way for ludicrously saccarine patriotism, where he compares his values with those of the Declaration of Independence. Really? I don't remember the bit about rampant racism and borderline Holocaust denial, but I'll let that pass for now, since the man is in tears and clearly not in a good way. I'm sure his tears are on behalf of the public's loss of his services, and not any personal selfishness or anxiety of the imminent sacking coming his way.

He's hanging by a solitary thread, and the insanity card has been played too many times. Could this be the end for the master of crocodile tears and on-air lunacy?

Wednesday, 26 August 2009

Professional backstabber Dan Hannan is continuing to prostitute his politics over the Atlantic, appearing in an interview with Paul Waugh to discuss his plans to become the official voice of British public sector politics in the States.

As if his healthcare scaremongering on Fox wasn't enough, Hannan feels the need to restress the comparison of the NHS with some kind of nuclear disaster, a comparison that only seems to make sense in his own warped mind.

Noticeably smug in the interview, Hannan seems to attribute his internet 'popularity' to the groundbreaking nature of his views, and comes to the decision that people came to some sort of 'eureka' moment when watching him slither his way onto the Glenn Beck show. At this point, I do start to wonder if Hannan realises that all publicity is good publicity for his purposes. I suspect he does, which would certainly explain why he continues his campaign of targeting Americans with limited knowledge of the British healthcare system.

Hannan's approach is similar to telling a blind man the weather, and he is inhabiting a dangerous territory. It is clear that he was aware of this, targeting only the furthest rightwing groups in America in order to guarantee there would be no hostility towards his views. What a pioneer for British politics.

In this most recent interview, he announces his admiration of Enoch Powell, a role model known for his anti-immigration and Common Market views. When considering the consequences of Nigel Hastilow's remarkably similar comments, this marks Hannan moving onto extremely shaky territory in terms of his position as an MEP.

I hope he has some ideas for a long-term career riding the YouTube wave, since it seems like he is rapidly surfing his way towards the end of his current occupation.

Saturday, 22 August 2009

It's all going wrong for Kerry. Humiliated on telly, with and without her approval, married to a philandering neanderthal who looks like a chav who's won the lottery, and now the subject of drugs accusations (again). Admittedly, these three unfortunate afflictions bleed into one another somewhat, with examples such as Kerry being intoxicated with some sort of il/legal drug on morning TV, and her doting husband touching up a stripper on camera.

Oh, woe is she. Now some Murdoch Sunday red-top which I will keep anonymous (although it seems to think it has some kind of positive reputation as reporting the "News of the World") has somehow got its greasy little hands on a video of Kerry snorting some coke in her bathroom.

To be fair, it's pretty conclusive (not that many of us needed proof of this), but I think the eerie music does a good job to spell out the sense of foreboding and impending evil for the average (eight year old) reader:

It's great that the British press are not above bugging a troubled celebrity's house, or paying her 'friends' ridiculous sums to do it for them. Otherwise, where would we get our daily fix of celebrity based mockery? Oh... Katie Price... sorry, I forgot about her.

It seems that Iceland is not up for having Kerry on their books anymore, since this event means that her presence on the ads would reflect badly on the brand. Aren't people like (the portrayal of) Kerry Katona their target audience? Quick line, then bang down a pack of frozen fish fingers. You need to be a hardcore junkie just to keep them in.

First thing that springs to my mind: Does this mean Kerry loses her staff discount?

Monday, 17 August 2009

Fair play to Channel Four, they really know how to cause social awkwardness. Then put it on the telly.

This week's celebrities swapping lives were 'Big' Ron Atkinson, and Tessa Sanderson. In case the penny hasn't dropped yet, one is a TV pundit whose career was crucified after calling a football player the 'N' word live on Sky Sports. And Tessa? She's black. And good with a javelin. Yum.

As if the setup couldn't be improved, Ron's also a bit of a chauvanist pig, which doesn't sit well with gold medalist Tessa.

Some highlights include his poor bitch of a wife being forced to tell a group of young black kids what her husband said after he thought they'd gone to an ad break. Ron's take on the subject wasn't great from a PR point of view.

TESSA: So, about the thing you said on TV...RON: NO! *Whistles* Full time! No comment! [Author's note: I don't think whistles work outside football matches, Ron.]TESSA: But...RON: She's put you up to this hasn't she? *Gestures off camera*PRODUCER: [Indignantly] No I haven't!

Ron's refusal to discuss it kind of pissed on Channel 4's bonfire a bit, since the rest of the episode was pretty banal (trying to get a middle-aged man to eat greens isn't fun to do or watch), but nevertheless, worth it for the setup alone.

On second thought, I withdraw my last comment, after accidentally pausing on Big Ron's 'tomato-eating' face.

Sunday, 16 August 2009

After months of baited breath, I am proud to announce that there has been news on Chris Morris' latest project; Four Lions.

The satirist responsible for projects such as The Day Today and Brass Eye has been in relative hiding in recent years, doing painstaking research into Muslim culture and the nature of suicide bombing, in one of his bravest moves yet; a 'jihadi comedy'.

There is no doubt that Four Lions is going to cause huge waves, but the question remains, where? Morris has reportedly been speaking to everyone from armed police to security experts to Muslim community workers. That and getting into a fight with Martin Amis. The expectation is that, like Brass Eye, this will cause a large amount of offence, especially due to the volatility of the subject matter, something on a par with the Danish cartoons which set a large group of extremist Muslims at war with the Danes.

But I don't believe that Morris took this project on simply to start a tornado of Islami-political hell. There is no doubt that this will be the most challenging project he's ever done, and my gut tells me that he would not use the opportunity to simply offend as many Muslims as possible.

The project has some great names attached to it, the named so far include Peep Show writers Sam Bain and Jesse Armstrong, as well as staple Morris comics such as Kevin Eldon.

We seem to be barely months from the first genuine 'jihadi comedy' feature film. There is no doubt that this will severely shake up the Western stance towards Islam in one way or another. However, I think if there's one person who can handle this gig, it's Morris.

The production company has reportedly said that the film's 'tornado of industry is now trapped and humming in a box'. It's certainly worth being there when that box is opened.

Friday, 14 August 2009

In a marked step against the Republicans (or should I say 'Ruperblicans'?) running amok in the US re: healthcare reform, writer of Father Ted, Graham Linehan has stepped in to spearhead a pro-NHS campaign.

Barrack Obama has produced plans for a (long overdue) healthcare reform, which would create a US healthcare system very similar to our own NHS. Of course, this has sent the right wingers wild, and how else would they show their disdain than by infiltrating the Fox Network? Oh wait, I got that wrong, they're already there. And they took guns to their protest. Always important to come well-equipped to a political protest, I say. Or as one young protester said: 'it would be silly to take an unloaded weapon, wouldn't it?'

Nice to know these people have a good head on their shoulders.

Anyway, Graham Linehan fought back against the likes of hyperbolic gasbag Bill O' Reilly and his pet, Glenn Beck, by creating the Twitter hashtag #welovetheNHS, and starting a global movement. Within hours, thousands, which soon became hundreds of thousands of British people shared their stories of positive NHS experiences, in order to drown out the hysterical Republicans barking their incoherent patriobabble across the television networks.

So successful is this campaign, it seems to be snowballing into a possible Murdoch boycott, possibly one of the most effective so far. Here's a bit of Linner talking about his unlikely campaign:

If you want to be a part of it, here's the companies you should avoid.

And as a little tribute, I've created the #weloveGlinner hashtag for people to show their appreciation for the campaign. If you wish to use Twitter to show your support, I suggest you use it too.

Friday, 7 August 2009

Seems like all this insta-fame is getting too much for Chanelle Hayes. If you don't remember her, she walked out of BB8, went out with a disfigured mannequin called 'Ziggy' long enough for a lucrative OK! Magazine deal, then released a shit single in her pants. Feel free to interpret that last one any way you wish.

It has been reported that she attempted suicide after a row with her boyfriend. After seeing half of her behaviour in relationships, I can't say I'm surprised. A little melodramatic may be the polite way of putting it. By the way, the reason there's no photo for this entry is I couldn't find any where she didn't have her tits out. Go figure.

Anyway, I was having a look around, and I found this little bit of video which provides a casing point. Was this the turning point for Chiggy's relationship? Maybe.

I lol'd. Especially when she shouted 'can me mam 'ave it?!' as the camera panned away.

So, word of warning for those in sham relationships brought on by tempting magazine deals: don't go on Ready Steady Cook, it'll be your undoing.

Thursday, 30 July 2009

And the star prize at the 'totally missed the point' awards, goes to Stephen Fry's followers on Twitter. Not that most of them know who he is outside watching half of an episode of QI... cretins.

So not that I'm a huge fan of this whole 'ooh I'm following a person who is famous, that makes me their best friend', business, but then when barely literate people start having a go at celebrities for things they don't understand, I do find that passes as at least some form of entertainment.

Recently Stephen Fry made a slight overestimation of his followers' abilities to put two and two together, when he admitted the last bit of TV he illegally downloaded was the season finale of House. Don't know if it was worth it, to be honest. I finally made it through Season 5 last night (no I will NOT tell you if I paid for it or not). Pretty pissed off about it; lots of cyclic narratives that went nowhere and 'it's all a dream' explanations for going back to normal when interesting plot development actually took place. Anyway, I'm digressing. Cue anarchy as the people he once regarded as his friends (very naive, Stephen), went on the attack against piracy and stealing and blahblahblahboringbitthatyoutryandskipondvdsbutitwon'tletyounowBLAH.

Do these people understand CONTEXT? This kind of stuff keeps me awake at night. That one day these people will inherit the earth (if they haven't already), mindlessly complaining about stuff without a sense of irony or understanding of what's really happening.

Maybe these people should give Hugh Laurie a ring? Maybe he'll explain the joke to them. Then again, I wonder if they'll be looking up his name as 'Gregory House' in the phone book. Bastards.

Tuesday, 21 July 2009

...Minus a funeral. Or Richard Curtis. Two things to be very thankful for.

As if Come Dine with Me wasn't the peak of reality tv excellence, Living TV have proved themself to be somewhat of a dark horse and have produced Four Weddings. In case you haven't guessed the set up, it's the same, but instead of a dinner party competition for upper-middle class wannabes, it's a wedding competition with neurotic female contestants and their battered husbands.

The winner gets a luxury honeymoon, and the women seem to be borderline psychotically intent on having the best wedding, meaning they'll backstab and crush any stupid bitch that gets in their way, obviously whilst putting on a face for the cameras.

Imagine the KateSLASHPeter superpinksupervomitinducingsuperridiculous wedding, times it by four, and add a competitive element, and I think we've got the makings of something promising.

Thursday, 18 June 2009

I have been saved from watching the mundane circus that is Big Brother by an absolutely splendid bit of dark comedy by the writers of The League of Gentlemen; Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton. Of course, I'm talking about Psychoville.

If you're familiar with League, and want more of the same, without the inevitable trading of quality for quantity after the whoring of series after series, Psychoville is the perfect solution.

Playing on a number of traditional ghost stories and horror films, Psychoville creates a twisted universe not dissimilar to that of Royston Vasey. Film references galore for those who care, although it doesn't detract from the programme at all if you don't get them. That said, I think you've missed a trick if you haven't chuckled at the reworking of the Carrie narrative to incorporate dwarves and pornography. We are introduced to several seemingly completely unique characters, drawn together by a number of identical anonymous letters dispatched to them with the handwritten message: 'I know what you did'.

Seeming cliched to you? It is, but that's part of its charm. The writers play with the traditional structure of existing texts in order to bring their own dark comedic element to the piece. Expect a little glimmer in the darkness, and revel in treading the line between horror and hysteria. Dawn French is surprisingly good in a role I honestly didn't think she'd be able to pull off, as a midwife coveting a doll in the absence of her own child, in a narrative I can only describe as a well-deserved tribute to the cult absurdist Czech horror: Little Otik.

I'm at Episode two, thanks to the joy that is that little red button, and I'm absolutely hooked. It's nice to see that Shearsmith and Pemberton are about to follow up League in similarly spectacular fashion, with a brilliantly written and performed piece I'm sure we'll be talking a lot about in the months and years to come. Bravo BBC2 for recognising the talent that makes me feel better about the licence fee.

Better than Series two of League? Give me a week or two. I'll get back to you on that one.

Absolutely great episode of Come Dine with Me tonight. This week's group were particularly watchable due to them hating the sight of each other.

The week has had a few highlights, one of my favourites being a 30 stone man (as a conservative estimate) putting his knee and arse through two respective chairs. At least he found it funny. Having his hosts reinforcing their furniture prior to his arrival must be something he's used to.

Anyway, today the group went to Patrick's, and for those who don't know, Patrick is an upper-class homosexual cliche who is apparently married to a woman who doesn't know the aforementioned given. Patrick also enjoys lowering the tone of dinner parties to smutty innuendoes about cocks and balls. I wouldn't mind, but some of the inserted bits (see, I can do it too!) are along the lines of:

'I have no problem getting an erection, but keeping it is something else entirely.'

Hang on a second, that's more of an entendre. Where's the double?

After the main course, there's a jalapeno and mint 'palate cleanser'. Palate cleanser? Seriously? Fuck off. If you're not Japanese, you have no right to go there without looking like a pretentious twat. Also, burning the surface of the tongue off is not the same as 'cleansing'. Anyway, he 'didn't put many chillies in', but Gavin, the resident fat joke ended up having some sort of anaphylactic attack at the table. I'm thinking this may be a lesson in not consuming food by inhaling it.

The creme brulee goes to shit, so he ends up pouring it over panettone (that's posh bread cake according to London people). This pisses off David, who's not fat or gay, (actually, he might be gay, I wasn't really paying attention, to be honest), because he got a crust. Oh, the humanity! His custard bread dish will be ruined! So he ends up throwing a hissy fit (and the crust) at Gavin, much to his delight.

Wednesday, 17 June 2009

About 10 years too late, Apprentice loser Lorraine Tighe has realised that going on a high-profile reality TV show can have an effect on your private life. Speaking in a newspaper recently, she stated that she wouldn't go on another reality tv show ever again. Put your contracts away Endemol.

Apparently her appearance on The Apprentice has 'ruined' her family's reputation in her hometown in Ireland. So, in hindsight, selling stories like this may have been a mistake?

Personally, I don't see how an appearance on one of the relatively tame reality shows can do anywhere near the same damage to an Irish Catholic's reputation as selling a two-page interview about being a swinger as part of the 'sex scandal' section of the second most low brow newspaper in the country. Then again, I'm sure the money will cushion the blow (sorry) somewhat.

As final thought for the day, some advice; asking one of your fellow contestants to take part in a foursome is usually considered somewhat of a social faux pas.

All the other channels have died an early death while Big Brother's on, and seem to be completely refusing to show anything that might get a few viewers in case BB nicks them. So, this is why I'm watching How Clean is Your House, because frankly, it's teatime, and there's no other reason for me to spoil my tea by looking at dirty people's houses than the simple fact that otherwise I'll have to watch Big Brother's Big Mouth.

And nobody would wish that on anyone.

So here I am watching Kim and Aggie sniffing a farmhouse that's caked in shit. After the initial swabbing to find out what kind of dirt it is (involving ridiculously long-winded and expensive lab tests), the pair divulge their increasingly bizarre home-made cleaning products for getting rid of it. Now, I'm no expert on the subject, but if a swab of the tables came back showing evidence of salmonella, I'd clean it with bleach, toilet duck, anything that burns. But Kim has a better idea, smearing the table with COFFEE instead.

Ok, great. Coffee for the tables, sour milk for brass, what's next? Cat's piss for the windows? It's called Dettol. What's wrong with that? Why have we achieved something if we clean with food?

It's fine, I'll chuck out my kitchen roll and sponges and clean with a loaf of bread soaked in Ribena from now on.

Monday, 15 June 2009

A YouTube find that just made my day; Joan Rivers livens up Loose Women, preventing over 8 suicides that day. Speaking about Russell Crowe, Joan lets out a two-pronged attack unsuitable for an 11am audience. But something I think Loose Women has been asking for since it started - someone interesting.

Anyway, have a look.

Predictably, she was removed during the commercial break, much to her delight. Heaven forbid that show ever lets someone on with a personality ever again.

Another example of someone being chucked off a chat show (more warranted this time), sexist ex-Celebrity Big Brother contestant John Mcririck is thrown off Alan Titchmarsh's chat show (yes, I don't know why he has one either) for having a go at Chris Tarrant's ex, Ingrid, for being crap at sex. So, the man who used to do the horse racing and wear hats and hate women gets on a chat show hosted by a gardener whilst having a go at a philandering game show host's ex wife.

You heard it right, the fat hairy man in the purple silken suit just told the attractive blonde woman that he can understand why Chris strayed. Why did Mr BabyBio throw him out? It was just turning into something that passed for entertainment.

Thursday, 11 June 2009

Have I just been living under some kind of popular-culture rock for the last 6 months, or did reality TV talent shows take a turn for the worst overnight by adding audience participation to the mix? At the risk of sounding terribly old-fashioned, I remember the days when programmes like Popstars were on, and they at least attempted to convince the audience that the aim of the show was to find talent, rather than to exploit freaks for comic potential.

Admittedly, the word 'talent' is a questionable one, especially when the winners of the first series wouldn't look out of place as next year's Albanian entry in Eurovision.

You may recognise the one in the middle. Racking your brains? You'll find her image attached to:

Anyway, I've digressed. Aside from giving people the ability to brand their names and faces onto every commodity they can get their jaded hands on, TV talent shows now seem to be evolving to a point where they fully accept their ability to showcase mentally unstable members of the public.

By the time X Factor arrived, we were pretty used to the idea of watching the audition stages, and turning off by the time they'd weeded out the funny ones. Now, here we are at 'Britain/America/Borstall's Got Talent', and now the audience are included in filming to publicly mock and deride the contestants.

So, as if openly admitting the zoo-like qualities of the television talent show isn't bad enough, it seems we're being coerced into thinking that this is normal and/or acceptable. Should we be worried? I don't really know. It sounds like a pretty dire state of affairs when it's in black and white.

Sunday, 7 June 2009

SurAlan has his Apprentice for another year, and we can all snatch a breath before the next reality TV bonanza...

Actually, no, that's a lie. We've now got Big Brother AND America's Got Talent to contend with. I feel I'm not the only one who's in some way obligated to watch these things in order to maintain rapport with work colleagues and acquaintances, or face being viewed as some kind of freak with no interest in these sacred televisual traditions. Unfortunately, it's a high price to pay. With 16 contestants, Big Brother this year by my calculations will be lasting... oh I don't know... 25 years or so? No wonder Davina's said it's her last one, she'll probably have died of old age by the time it's finished.

I'm finding the whole thing deeply depressing at the moment. Plus with half of them changing their names by deed poll day by day, I have no idea who's who. It's easy to remember the 'outrageous' ones, but when you're faced with a room of freaks, it's surprisingly different to separate them.

However, I'm starting to think that it's possible that some of them are old contestants who've been recycled into this new series. Here's some suspiciously alike contestants old and new:

Ok so that last one was a bit mean, but you catch my drift.

In BB news, Beinazir has been evicted as per those bizarre non-housemate rules that seemed to have very little point whatsoever except as a failed attempt to revive Big Brother's seriously flagging viewer ratings. Shouldn't this be at the top of this article? Yeah, probably, but then again, I've placed the news exactly in order of importance in this article, unlike the Sun trying desperately to fool readers into thinking that Big Brother is actually important, seeing as it provides 90% of their headlines from June-December without any journalism needed whatsoever.

Hopefully in the coming weeks it'll get more interesting, and maybe then I'll actually bother to remember their names.

After 13 weeks of on-off viewing (or 'on', depending on the dignity of the viewer), we've finally reached the end of the Apprentice.

Kate and Yasmina made up the final two contestants, amd were set the task of marketing a box of chocolates. Both originally opted for equally shit ideas, Yasmina's group marketing a posh box of chocolates aimed at men (which anyone who's ever seen a Yorkie bar will instantly find fault with), and Kate going for the least original idea in the history of confection; chocolate for couples.

After being told by about 20 experts in the field that the idea was a load of bollocks, Yasmina still ploughed on, taking the approach that 'it's NICHE, it'll be FINE!', but by the 50th criticism, finally dropped the idea. Shame that the second idea made the first look like a stroke of genius. "Let's make really shit chocolate with stuff like curry inside, then film an advert with actors almost vomiting as they eat them, whilst simultaneously being electrocuted!" Great, I'm sure Cadbury's will be queuing up for that one. The only thing worse than the taste was the name; 'Cocoa Electric'. No sleek box or pink lightning bolt is going to draw attention away from that appalling product name.

Kate's team follow their highly cliched idea through to completion, and end up making a pretty decent product, although with a slightly bumpy patch during development. Kate opts for the slightly too feminine name 'Intimate', possibly worrying the consumer as to what the box would actually contain. I must admit my mind fleeted towards 'Femfresh' before 'chocolate'.

Surprisingly, even though the chocolate made Sir Alan wretch, Yasmina was chosen to be hired, and Kate will have to face the music in regards to totally snubbing her bit on the side Phillip both when picking teams and in general social interaction after he was kicked off. Weird, she was so into him when he was actually in it.

The chemistry was there from Day One.

Nevertheless, I'm sure they'll enjoy plenty of years together, as was clear in the mutual awkwardness when marriage was discussed. Then again, if the money's there from OK! Magazine, why not? Debra's already got her tits out for FHM, their sham wedding would be relatively dignified in comparison.

Wednesday, 3 June 2009

Be careful what you wish for. It seems ITV were asked to produce a hard-hitting documentary to tackle the nation-wide 'alcodemic', and as a result, decided to film Liberty X's Michelle Heaton drinking herself to death over a month.

Wait, scratch that first sentence, this seems like it has promise. Not in the way ITV probably hoped, though. Do they not find it slightly suspicious that Michelle Heaton was the FIRST to volunteer for the (all expenses paid) booze, with the added benefit of getting on the telly?

Particularly wooden acting galore as Michelle tries desperately to pretend she's in a foreign environment as she steps into a club and orders a drink. Is this really an experiment? If anything, she looks like she's reducing her intake rather than increasing it. Maybe that's why she feels so unwell.

In one memorable segment, Michelle takes a singing lesson and sounds awful, then blames the alcohol for ruining her vocal chords. Has she ever listened to one of her CDs? If anything, the vodka's helping.

Monday, 1 June 2009

It seems that insta-fame has become too much for Dave Lee Travis lookalike Susan Boyle.

After being escorted from a hotel by two police officers after a couple of paparazzis 'wound her up', it was clear the the mask was slipping. Then someone saw her going mental at the tv screen in a hotel lobby packed with Britain's Got Talent contestants because little Shaheen got some praise from Piers Morgan.

It seems that the classic fairytale ending that everyone so desperately is searching for in this sad sad world wasn't going to happen, because, well, this is real life and things like that don't happen. If you could call any of this media circus around her real anyway.

Unfortunately it seems that all the defining criteria is not quite perfect.

1. Susan Boyle's fame comes from her... ok I'll be kind and say 'unconventional' look. But none of you can say you're not thinking the same word as I am, but this point is for later. A talented person who isn't attractive? Christ, the world must stop for her! It's not like they picked an extreme and edited all the others out or anything.

2. She's got an amazing voice. Well... everyone seems to believe this is so. But is this because she does, or because we want her to because it helps us to understand that there is something good and just in this world and an underdog can come through therefore helping us to find some point to living? Hmmm... I'll let you think on that for a while. Casing point, performance of 'Memory'. Not great, from where I'm standing, yet not even Simon Cowell mentions the bum notes which are there from the very first word. It seems we've set a precedent for her that she cannot fall under, and it's ALL OUR FAULT!

3. She's a nice, normal lady. Well, up until about 2 weeks ago, yeah. But then she got stressed and started swearing and getting angry and 'talking to policemen but NOT arrested, definitely not arrested'. Now she's been escorted away by head doctors and police 'after concerns for her own safety'. Reports say she went mental because she didn't win. Hmmm... I feel like the ghost at the feast saying this, but is it not possible that it's not a mental illness, but an ego complex she developed because WE couldn't find fault with her?

4. Everyone loves her sooo much, like a disabled kitten, we hugged her until she asphixiated in our arms. Even heretics are being burned at the stake - see here for the story of "1:24 Girl" and the global hate campaign caused because SHE DARED TO ROLL HER EYES AT THE BOYLE. We've created a monster!

In conclusion, it's all our fault. We said she couldn't lose, then she did. The feeling that I'll be lynched for saying 'maybe she's not a very nice lady after all' makes me feel strange inside, which must say something about this whole situation. It seems people still aren't ready to let go yet; will it take a killing rampage by Boyle to sway public opinion? I can imagine the headline in the Sun:

"Boyle beheads 20, but fuck me she can sing, despite being incredibly ugly. Well done!"

Friday, 29 May 2009

So my attention was drawn to a rather funny article today. Time Magazine produced a piece on people who use Twitter to massage their own ego, some of the worst offenders showcased on the website tweetingtoohard.com. The submissions are then ranked and listed according to votes.

A good idea in theory, I'll admit. But a problem came when comedian Peter Serafinowicz caused a stir in the magazine by posting the following Tweet:

"Went to the gym this morning. As I left, everyone said I was the best!"

Incensed by the Tweet, the American magazine had trouble understanding the irony of this statement, and promptly included Serafinowicz's quote into their article. Asking him why he'd written something so arrogant, he replied:

"At my local gym, most of the guys (losers) are jealous of me, as (I don't wish to boast) I'm in great shape. I'm pretty sure that they call me names when I'm not around, so when they congratulated me for bench-pressing 180 pounds, I suppose I felt vindicated in some way, and wanted to tell the world about it."

Again, Time magazine took the statement at face value and made complete tits of themselves to the British public, posting it with both quotes.

Wednesday, 27 May 2009

It seems that it's been at least four minutes since anyone talked about Jade Goody, so her mum's taken the opportunity to dig it up again (sorry) with one of the most shameless acts of story-selling I've ever seen in my life. You can find the article here.

Apparently Jade's visited her mum twice, so she just HAD to give an interview about it. Now, I don't give a shit about the paranormal, but ghosts and delusional crackpots aside, isn't it a bit coincidental that this has happened to a woman who would sell her own daughter (oh wait...) if she could? Also a bit dodgy that Jade apparently had all interview fees donated to cancer charities. No money for Mummy then. So possibly an opportunity to line her pockets now that her daughter has no say?

Apparently the first occurence was a face in the clouds. What, something like this?

Also, apparently Jade wrote in a steamy mirror 'light a candle for me mum'. What dead person asks that? This whole thing sounds like a very bad film, something like P.S. I Love You. Ugh, how sickening.

Also, Jackiey goes on to talk about what Jade did in her final moments. Funny, I thought she'd have saved that for next week's News of the World, she'd get paid twice that way.

Tuesday, 26 May 2009

Positively gorged on Come Dine with Me this evening. About 3 solid hours of it.

What is wrong with the contestants nowadays? I know they're going down the Wife Swap route of sticking weirder people in for entertainment value, but christ, some of them are just shocking.

On More4 this evening, a woman who leaves each party early for sleep, then on her own dinner, totally fucks up, then fucks off. Manages to turn pavlova into ovenbaked shit puddles, blends through a sieve trying to pulp raspberries, and serves prawn cocktail in an avocado skin. The guests try to be as supportive and patronising as possible, but the poor bitch is physically exhausted by visiting two people for dinner on two nights in a row and starts crying at the table. Then she fucks off to bed, leaving another guest to cook the main course.

Doesn't go too badly. Well, you know where you are with Old El Paso. Her guest calls her down for dinner, after 8 minutes of sleep (or so it says on the box), she stumbles downstairs, walking into a wall and a doorframe on the way. Maybe take off the eye mask first?

Dessert is meringue shit pancakes from earlier with fruit on. She starts crying again, and gets a fully deserved 9. Overall. Worst score ever. But bloody entertaining. There's nothing better than the pleasure of seeing someone fuck up that badly.

Highlight of my evening? Christopher Biggins on Celebrity Come Dine with Me (don't say you haven't seen it, that's bollocks and you know it). What did he do? Bought a trout mousse from Sainsbury's and lied about it to Edwina Currie. Then, while eating a souffle she made, asked inquisitively, "how many eggs are in this, Edwina?" If you don't find this funny, you need to do research here. This is two-way traffic you know, I expect you to do your bit, i.e. learn political history.

Apparently Edwina didn't know the eggs were dodgy.

Also, Biggins has a hysterical laugh, sends him red and everything. And anyone that pisses off Edwina Curry is alright in my book.

Monday, 25 May 2009

I know Big Brother is launching soon but there's no reason to lose the plot. Some of these upcoming programme setups sound absolutely ludicrous.

First up, I'm Running Sainsbury's, where trolley pushers get to run the company for a while. So... people doing a job they're not qualified to do and messing it up? Or maybe a rags to riches Secret Millionaire style inspiridoc? Hope it's not the latter, getting nauseous at the thought of it. I hope they get someone really thick to do it. Knowing Channel 4, I probably won't be disappointed.

After that, live operations. The autopsy one was gross enough, with that mad German professor. Then again, if someone dies on live tv, could be an interesting moral question raised there. I'll stick with it, sounds like a laugh. Like watching someone playing Russian Roulette.

Oh wait, Derren Brown did that already, and that just ended up being a big load of bollocks. Then again, Derren Brown is a bit of a bellend, which I think changes everything. I think my disappointment came from the not losing bit.

Saturday, 23 May 2009

Ok, playing catch-up as I missed Britain's Got Talent, luckily it's on the website. Didn't want to miss this one as it's the last one with freaks in.

Good old Britain's Got Talent to cheer me up on a Saturday evening. What other programme showcases an OAP from a pudding factory singing 'The Lion Sleeps Tonight' followed by a man simultaneously juggling and eating apples? Helpfully backgrounded by the New World Symphony (Hovis theme tune to common people) as the music of choice. Erm, he works in a PUDDING FACTORY. Bread factory, fine. Baguettes, maybe. I'd even permiss sweetbreads. But PUDDING is not the same. Tits. Ever the pioneer, Simon helpfully suggests 'you should probably move it up to something bigger, like grapefruits or melons, something like that'. Well done Simon, always thinking.

Next up, Julia the naked Latvian belly dancer. Amanda Holden looks genuinely upset at the competition, although it doesn't take a naked Latvian to show her up, let's be honest. Also, didn't she marry Les Dennis for a bit? The mind boggles as to what the hell happened to her in those... 8 years. Poor cow. Turning over and seeing that mess of a human being next to her must have been an experience that would break the best of us.

Anyway, I was desperate for a freak, and I got one. Nick Hell from Sunderland. Background music? The Addams Family. Fanfuckingtastic, I'm salivating waiting for this one. Accompanied by his fiancee, Sharon, or should I say Frodo? Ok, he's hanging shit from his ears. Sharon watches, great assisting. How the fuck is having loads of holes in yourself a talent?! Feel a bit nauseous now. Nick's words: 'I think the Queen will love it!' Seriously, what is wrong with that woman's face? Piers says yes to piss Simon off.... ooooh... rebel much?

Next up, man who can't play guitar, and OPERA TRANNY. Social worker is removed by security.

Oh wait! It's the cute kid bit now. Parents seem to be hippies, don't think they sent him to school, taught him drums instead. 'We love him, he hits drums instead of kittens like he used to'. Turns out to be quite good, although standing ovation by Amanda is a bit much. Ant screams 'HE'S A REALLY GOOD DRUMMER!!'. Jesus, alright. No need for the fucking S Club 7 'Never Had a Dream Come True' cliched bollocks. Stop fucking crying! I hate cute talented kids, they get on my fucking nerves. God, I feel sick. It's this bit in these talent shows that make me need to torture small animals to make the world right again. Even Michael Jackson kid gets in! What fucking parent would make their kid follow Michael Jackson as an example? Oh sorry, this is BGT. Negligent parents.

Dancing dog now. That dog is not fucking dancing. I don't care what anyone says. Simon's suggestion 'teach it to tap dance'. To be honest, might pay money to see that. Billy Elliot kid = urgh.

Man with shiny guitar now. Is that really a talent? Booooring. Oh jesus christ, he's trying to sing 'I Want to Break Free'. Bad move, even with ultra-shiny LEDs. It's like, erm, noone gives a shit about your lights? Why do people like him? HE PUT LIGHTS ON A GUITAR, then butchered Freddie Mercury. What a twat. Angry mum reaction is funny: 'oooh, you NASTY MAN'. He goes through but mum gets the arse and tries to help her son get more confidence by going out on stage and saying he has a confidence problem to the BRITISH PUBLIC?!

So, we're at the end of the auditions. Series highlight for me? Parrot that won't sing Take on Me. That said, his owner failed at it pretty badly too. Parrot win? I think so.

Oh BGT, shame it'll be shit from now on. Am I the only one who doesn't care who wins? I only watch these things for the freaks in the audition stages. Everyone knows Susan Boyle's going to win. Blergh, how typically British of us all.

Friday, 22 May 2009

Why hasn't Loose Women been pulled yet? It feels like it's been going for centuries. Maybe it has, its effect on weekday mornings has made time lose all meaning for me. Never before has a programme had such an ironic title in my life. The only one the term 'loose' applies to is that 'butch' one, you know, the one that drinks pints and that and not gin and tonic or some other equally old-fashioned drink. So the point of this show is airing on the premise of something feminist whilst portraying the masculinised one as a freak in an attempt to take us back to 1920s gender politics? Something tells me that power like that shouldn't be in the hands of such dense people. The rest of the coven are just a bunch of hormonal freaks who shout 'we don't need men!' one minute, then write love notes to send to George Clooney's fan club the next. Three married women; two of which baby machines, one barren, two spinsters who like it that way, a couple of nymphos and a lesbian. Representative of the British female population. Good. Well researched, you bunch of backwards lab specimens.

Denise Welch fronts the feminist campaign by getting her tits out for Russell Brand.

What's worse, now they're auditioning female hopefuls to add to their pack. Am I the only one who thinks they need more than a new panel member to turn that car accident of a show around?

Then again, this is ITV so... we should be thankful that their daytime selection is there to make us all go out and get jobs.

Thursday, 21 May 2009

Not content with verbally berating the less intellectual members of the British public on his show, Jeremy Kyle has been let loose on the streets of... Sheffield to single-handedly tackle knife crime. Never before has a television premise promised so much and delivered so little.

The result ended up being Jeremy driving around with a black man telling him 'how it is on the street', chasing after teenagers in balaclavas in playgrounds and getting angry at drug dealers.

Then, in some kind of Sister Act-esque plotline, he decides to solve the problem of knife crime with... a disco. I can't fucking wait. 'It won't be like any club, it'll be open late and everything'. God, why didn't anyone else think of that? Because it's a shit idea, that's why. In fact, does it even classify as an idea to make a club for teenagers who like to stab each other? It sounds like more of a sport to me.

Funniest moment on the show? Jeremy confronts a teenager who threatens to smash up his camera. Jeremy retorts 'I'm not scared of you and your little threats', to which the kid replies that he means it. Jeremy responds by running to his car, muttering some excuse about not achieving anything here.